Right This Wrong
by Tendertooks
Summary: Harry's still smarting from Draco’s betrayal, but now the truth is out: His old heartache Cedric never died, just been… well kept. So now that he’s finally resurfaced, he could right this wrong. But he doesn't know that Ced is the DarkLord's trump card.


**Right This Wrong**

**Summary**: Harry is still smarting from Draco's betrayal, but after finding out the truth, he feels like he can finally have a happy relationship. Yes, the truth is out: Cedric never died; he's just been… well kept. So now that he's finally resurfaced, he could right all this wrong… But what he doesn't know is that Cedric is the Dark Lord's trump card.

**A/N:** I've currently got a lot of criticisms for my portrayal of Cedric here, and would like your opinion as well. This is Dark!Cedric, and I haven't explained why, as of yet. But if you note the below bold lettering, you'll see that this is the first of a few chapters, so bear with me. As a side note, _The Claiming of Harry Potter_ is undergoing speculation and minor changes, I'm terribly sorry for the wait.

**Warning:** spoilers! Post GoF, but not AU. Lots of book spoilers including HBP. Cedric/Harry, Draco/Harry, implied Tom/Harry. I disclaim all property, which belongs to J.K. Rowling and other companies.

**Attention:** This has been edited for this site which does not allow… explicit stuff. Email me if you want the link to the hardcore one, but you've gotta convince me that you really want it ;D

--

**Chapter One: He Returns**

It wasn't safe to travel alone in Diagon Alley anymore, that much Harry knew, but he had always been deaf to warnings. And what's more- he was enjoying himself: being able to shop on your own and walk wherever you pleased was something he had been unaccustomed to since life with the Dursleys.

He restrained a proud smirk as he passed by Madam Malkins. It was good to be an adult wizard, for now he was finally _free_. He recalled the last night he spent in Privet Drive, excitedly packing what little belongings he had into his trunk as his uncle watched by the doorway, shoulders folded against his chest.

Oh, Harry had been quite pleasant with them. Even with Dudley, who had tried to steal a packet of the harmless-looking Bertie Bott's he'd received for his birthday. He even noted that Petunia looked guilty, watching Harry's glowing face at the prospect of leaving.

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. It was wonderful to be gone. Now he felt quite independent, directing his own path as he hailed the Knight Bus, dealt with his own Gringotts account, and rented a small but comfortable room above the Leaky Cauldron.

His only regret was that two of the most important father figures he's had were not alive to see him now. The memory of Sirius and Dumbledore brought out a sudden sharp cut into his heart, but he bravely shook it off, holding his head high as he entered the Apocathary.

The Apocathary, as usual, smelled vaguely of dungbeetles and soggy socks. Harry wrinkled his nose as he strode over to the back, peering at the list Hogwarts had given him for his school supplies.

If Ron and Hermione were with him, they'd have a fit over how many new vials and ingredients they'd have to juggle with this year. But Harry was too early for shopping, having wanted to get out of his uncle's house as soon as possible, so he had gone unaccompanied. Still, Harry glanced up to the shop window, as if expecting either of is bestfriends to suddenly barge in.

No apparent luck; still in Grimmauld Place, most probably.

Harry refocused his attention on the newt toes and crushed olive wood before him, but stopped when he heard an achingly familiar voice.

"Yes, I'll have to repeat fifth year, they say. It's a real mess, but Headmistress McGonagall said that if I do exceptionally this first term, I can get excelled a year."

Harry almost dropped the vials, but had enough restraint to place them back in the basket. Cautiously, he leaned to his left, peering at the counter, where a tall boy stood, his back facing him, talking politely with the Apocathary merchant.

He couldn't believe it.

_Cedric?_

Heart hammering, Harry abandoned his shopping and walked cautiously towards the two, his mouth slightly agape. The Apocothary witch, Eleis Higgins, if he recalled, spotted him first. She gave him a questioning glance, causing the tall boy to turn around, following the witch's gaze.

It seemed as if everything had gone absolutely still. Confusion took him by surprise like a bucket of ice-cold water. Here he was, Cedric Diggory, standing before him good and whole. He had changed, of course, being much taller now, and leaner; yet many things also remained the same. Those grey eyes still vibrant as Harry remembered, and chocolate locks still thick and wavy and…

"…Harry?"

Harry took a step back. "It really is you, isn't it?"

Cedric, too, seemed to be analyzing him. Harry knew he had grown a little now too, filling up when he had once been lanky and underfed. He tried to remain calm, feeling a little insecure around the edges. To himself, was still just the same gawky Harry Potter, after all.

Apocathary witch forgotten, Cedric walked briskly towards Harry. "Yes, uh, I'm a secret, but I thought they'd have told you by now."

"Who? What?" Started Harry, blinking owlishly. "–Well, I'm staying by myself at the Leaky Cauldron instead of with— with the Weasleys, so I haven't been much in contact with anyone."

Cedric nodded, "Bet the Order's pretty miffed about that."

Harry slid an eye over to the Apocathary witch, who was busy filling out ledgers, but Harry couldn't help but notice the way her ears seemed to be perked up, as if trying to hear what they had to say. Feeling that Order news was something that shouldn't be flaunted around casually, he lowered his voice.

"Cedric, What are you doing here? Why are you—" He stopped short of saying, 'alive'. But Cedric caught the meaning anyway, and made a move to gently grasp Harry's shoulders.

"—Let me explain somewhere else. I'll buy you a butterbeer, alright?"

Cedric had begun to steer Harry to the door, but Harry hesitated, waving the Hogwarts list in his hand. "Okay, but, I just need to finish the shopping—"

"Leave it with her," Said Cedric, taking the list and nodding his head towards the witch by the counter, "She'd be happy to do it."

--

Autumn leaves brushed against them, sweeping across their faces as they made their way to the Three Broomsticks. The lady that served them wasn't as friendly or bubbly as Rosmerta, Harry noticed with the sudden ache of nostalgia. Rosmerta was now serving time in Azkaban for what happened last year. He still recalled his feelings upon discovering what she and Malfoy had contrived with together, frowning as overtones of last year began to inch further into his mind.

"Are you alright?"

Harry snapped back into the present, noticing Cedric's warm hand over his. "Yes. Yes I'm fine. But, could you explain everything now? This is just getting so…"

"Of course." Said Cedric, as the waitress greeted them with a nod and their drinks. He waited until she was out of earshot, before facing Harry again, a solemn expression on his handsome face.

"I'm supposed to be dead, I know. But it was all a hoax. Voldemort planned to keep me alive, using me as bait against my father, who's in the Department of Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures. Voldemort was aiming to build up his army using him."

He paused, looking at Harry for any sign of acknowledgement. Harry looked perplexed, but nodded. At Cedric's questioning gaze, he added, "You call him Voldemort, now."

Cedric shrugged in reply. "There are things you get used to, when you've been their captive for three years, Harry."

Suddenly, Harry was haunted with afterimages of a dark graveyard, green light, and a cold dead body beneath him. He bit his lip, and balled his hands into fists. "But I took your body, Cedric, and I spoke to your ghost…"

Cedric shook his head, gripping Harry's hand tighter. "That's not real. They messed with your mind. Mixed the truth with false information. The body was a muggle— Frank Bryce was his name, I think, and they doused him with extended Polyjuice. I never died, Harry. Right when we both came to the graveyard, Peter'd immediately obliterated you, edited your memories, and captured me…"

"But what's the point in editing my memory if Voldemort had planned to kill me? Unless that mean he _allowed _me to escape?"

Harry didn't want to believe that the Dark Lord had manipulated him so easily. He didn't want to believe that all he'd seen, heard and felt— all the anger and fear and frustration— all the work that had battered him was only cooked up inside his head. He didn't want to believe that the ghosts he'd spoken to were not his parents at all.

Cedric brought Harry's shaking hand and pulled him close. Harry let him, leaned into the warm fabric of Cedric's cloak, falling against the lean muscles securing him. "I don't know." Cedric muttered into his ear. "They treated me a bit roughly, but knew I was a liability, so never let me hear anything important."

"You escaped, then?" Harry broke away only to look into the older boy's eyes.

"Yes, I was lucky."

"I-I never got to apologize—"

But Cedric gripped his shoulders tighter. "Now stop that, Harry. You've no _right_ to apologize."

Harry lowered his eyes, thinking back to a time, which still, occasionally, haunted his dreams. Graveyard headstones and a misty chilly night, and the flash of green.

Had it all been just made up?

--

Harry walked into his rented room, feeling numb and thunderstruck after his talk with Cedric Diggory. So many things that happened weren't even real, but why? If Voldemort had planted that information into his head, that meant Voldemort _allowed _him to come back to Hogwarts. Why would he do that?

And then it hit him. _Barty Crouch Jr_. He had remained stationed at Hogwarts even after Cedric and Harry disappeared. He was supposed to bounce Harry back like a tennis ball. That way, Harry would have leaked the information of Voldemort's return and be captured yet again.

But why would Voldemort want anyone, especially Dumbledore, to know he's back?

It was all so confusing. Harry plopped down onto his bed, glancing out at the window. He wished Hedwig would return from her hunting, he was feeling out of sorts with all the strange revelations.

And he was nervous. Cedric was visiting him tonight. They were supposed to talk about everything in greater detail, and fill Cedric in on what he had missed. Harry knew he should have said no, his migraine already budding then, but he couldn't resist the kind gray eyes that had once haunted his dreams.

Harry closed his eyes. It was years ago, but Harry still remembered. In fact, the feelings of utter helplessness, guilt and sorrow he'd attained from that graveyard have never fully left his side. And now that Cedric was back, upturning the world he knew, Harry couldn't help but recollect the aftermath… how he'd realized his love with Cedric Diggory a week after his death.

Which also brought to mind Draco Malfoy, who had begun persuing him then. He'd seduced Harry, giving night after night of explosive, passionate love-making. At first, all Harry could think of was how those gray eyes were just like Cedric's, and yet, not. He had been wracked and distraught, but Draco knew, and he had carefully fit the pieces back. Only to shatter them once again when he…

A flash of memory appeared in Harry's head: a floating body, glowing effervescent green in the afterglow of the curse. He remembered a lowered wand, the panic in Malfoy's voice. He remembered Snape's horrible expression, the words uttered, the cool night air wafting on his face— but what dealt him most pain was the determined look his lover had. Until now, he could feel the burning betrayal in his gut, still fresh and stinging since the night Dumbledore had died.

And of course, there was the ever-present guilt. He _had_ suspected his lover— especially when the blonde had begun to shun everyone. Harry's suspicion, matched with his desperation, turned into an obsession that everyone thought was mislead. –He'd hoped it was mislead as well. But there it was. Draco Malfoy had allowed the death eaters in. Draco Malfoy had betrayed them all.

And now Dumbledore was dead, and Malfoy was gone— leaving him in ruins, heart broken, secretly, ever since.

And now Cedric was back, and maybe he can right all this wrong.

--

"Are you excited, my pet?" Voldemort's voice muttered as the boy came closer to him.

Cedric smiled ruefully. "A little, father. I've missed him."

The day slowly waned into night, and they sat there, bidding their time. The room was dark, and chilly— just the way the Dark Lord liked it. Nagini was fast asleep, curled beneath the unused fireplace. Darkness pressed outside the window like a widow's veil.

"Hmm…" Said Voldemort after a long while, reaching his bony hands to stroke Cedric's tawny hair. "I thought you'd told me that he wanted your ersatz girlfriend."

"Yes, but that certainly does not mean I did not want him. I just never knew he liked boys too, not until…" Cedric trailed off, expression going bitter.

Voldemort could sense the sudden rage and jealousy in Cedric's being, and was faintly amused when the boy struggled to keep it hidden. He gave a long, thin smirk. "Hmm? What is it?"

"—Well, this is the funny thing, father…" He chose his words carefully, which was just as well.

"He has no idea how to put up any Occlumency shields, so I was browsing away while speaking to him… and… I realized that he's had a long affair with Malfoy… a memory of which he cannot let go off."

Voldemort laughed at Cedric's glare. "Does this displease you?"

"Very." Cedric looked away, gripping the hem of his sleeve. Voldemort pondered a little, before settling back on his winged armchair.

"I'm sure you can, hmm, fix that, I suppose."

"I will." There was a steady determination in the youth's voice.

"—But," Continued Voldemort dangerously, and slowly, "My one condition remains. You will allow me access when you take him."

Cedric glanced back at Voldemort, as if he was about to protest, but he said nothing. Voldemort gave a long, languid grin.

"I will speak to Lucius' son, now. You may go."

"Yes, father."

--

It was almost midnight, and Harry lay awake in his bed, thinking Cedric was not going to come. The lights were out now, and Harry was lying aimlessly, staring at the face of the moon that could be seen from his window.

He was anxious, of course – what if the Death Eaters had found Cedric? Or what if it wasn't really Cedric? What if it had been a daydream? Afterall, the knowledge of Cedric Diggory dead was such a foundation all these years. Could truth be simply erased and remodeled?

And of course, there was that tiny little thought hovering at the back of his head, wondering if Cedric simply stood him up. He remembered how Malfoy had always pretended not to come, but always did at the last minute.

The dark pain, which he had tried to forget, returned.

What was sad, in Harry's opinion, was the fact that nobody else knew about that clandestine affair. They kept it secret, for fear, of course, that the other side would catch wind and ask them to battle it out, like a Romeo and Juliet yarn. But that never stopped Malfoy from coming, from holding Harry close to his chest, promising that one day, he'd be on Harry's side, and with him forever…

Harry felt the searing pain grip his heart, but stayed stoic. He had never cried about that, and he wasn't going to. He just needed to think of other things.

A knock on his door made him bolt up from the bed in surprise. Harry ran his hand down his messy black hair, and tried breathing deeply to calm himself. He shelved his thoughts away from the blonde— there had been enough time moping. Cedric was here, and he cared about Harry. He would help him forget.

He slowed as he came towards the door, taking in a last, long exhale before unlocking it.

"Cedric—"

But the rest of his sentence was drowned out as passionate lips locked against him, pushing him back into the room. Cedric's hands wasted no time in sliding under Harry's shirt, and Harry could only moan against that hot, skillful mouth as he heard the door close shut and his knees give way.

Harry was gripping on Cedric's shoulders, responding hotly against the older boy, months— no, _years_ of pent up longing and frustration sizzling between them. Forgotten was the rivalry for Cho, forgotten was the issue of Cedric's death, for now, there was only an old, wonderful dream coming true.

Harry yelped when Cedric shoved him down onto the bed, climbing on top of the Gryffindor and pressing clothed erection against the other boy's pelvis. Harry gasped, the rock hard warmth sending trickles of pleasure as it brushed against own.

"Harry…" Cedric whispered raggedly, taking Harry's glasses off his face with sudden gentleness. "I've been wanting this for so long…"

This overwhelmed Harry; the old, shy Cedric Diggory pinning down onto a mattress, telling him such straightforward things. Had those three horrible, long years change him so much?

Cedric regained his reign, showering Harry's neck with tickling kisses and undressing him. Harry yelped when Cedric placed a well-aimed bite right below his jawline. He reached out to the older boy, and soon, both boys had stripped each other completely.

Harry licked against the collarbone, feeling Cedric's nails scratch almost painfully down his back. In a flash, he'd remembered Malfoy, and how the blonde had enjoyed inflicting just that when they fucked.

Cedric stiffened momentarily, and Harry shook away the thought. Had he noticed anything? Harry looked up into those grey eyes, hooded with dark lust and a predatory gleam. Cedric pulled Harry to sit up on the bed, slowly.

"I've wanted this for so long, Harry…" Cedric confessed, with a dark, haunting look, "Ever since I that time I saw you after Quidditch practice…" He trailed a long finger down Harry's collarbone to a nipple a bit possessively.

Cedric's hand reached up to the back of Harry's neck, pulling him forward. Harry obeyed, coming forward and eyeing the older man before him. He was gorgeous— muscular and yet not overtly, smooth tan flesh dappled with sweat and glimmering against the moonlight from the window; eyes just as vivid gray as the moon.

Harry was impassioned, skin burning as Cedric's fingers played across it, light as feather. And he was overwhelmed: the day's events upturning his world time and time again. And most of all, he was confused, for Cedric wanted him with a passion, a passion which, to his surprise, he returned, albeit a small voice in his head kept telling that this was not the same Cedric of three years ago.

"Lay down," Cedric said to the younger boy gently, helping Harry down onto the mattress, facing him. Harry stared up at his lover, whose brown hair stuck down to his forehead from sweat, grey eyes piercing, cheeks flushed and lips parted. Cedric smiled, leaning down to share a steamy kiss, so mind blowing that Harry barely registered the hand between his legs, easening them apart.

Suddenly, Cedric's hand grasped at Harry, making Harry gasp, green eyes widening. Cedric's expression was gentle, yet those eyes never lost the powerful look.

"Shh, Harry," said he, and Harry to shut his eyes and moan helplessly. Cedric's other hand traced the ravenhead's face, coaxing his mouth to open, and Harry did so willingly, sucking the fingers until they were gleaming under the moonlight.

"Am I your first?" Again, those eyes were glinting strangely, as if challenging him. Harry was in no position to think about what that meant; he just shook his head.

It was then that Harry felt those fingers. He gasped, arching, feeling a little pain as the welcomed violation continued in earnest. He could feel Cedric's hot, smooth body looming closer… Cedric leaned down and bit down Harry's left nipple, before lapping it up. "Who was it, then, Harry?"

"It, it was Mal-Malfoy— uhn!" Harry wriggled; Cedric had nipped him harshly with even teeth. Harry brought his hands to Cedric's shoulders, lost in the haze of passion— the older boy was undoing him! Harry was going crazy with lust— even his sweat, trailing down to his chin, felt like a sensual torture.

Finally, as if he could no longer wait, Cedric withdrew himself, propped Harry's legs up on his shoulder. Harry glanced up, astounded at how Cedric looked above him; those chiseled features, and that intense gaze. In the moonlight and shadows, Harry could have sworn he looked like—

"—And did you _enjoy _it with Draco?" Whispered Cedric pleasantly, and yet it seemed all the more dangerous. Large, calloused hands felt the soft skin of his thighs. Harry whimpered, wanting nothing more than just to be taken, the rising anticipation was strumming him mercilessly.

Cedric pushed in a little, having quite a difficulty because of his size. "Answer me, Harry."

Harry, dazed and unaccustomed to this sort of interrogation, simply nodded in affirmation. After all, he did fall in love with the blonde Slytherin.

Without a warning, Cedric arrested Harry, causing Harry's thoughts to flee, and he arched back, screaming; knuckles white as he grasped the bedsheets for some kind of support. Cedric paused, as if savoring the conquest that was Harry, shuddering beneath him.

He bent down to whisper into Harry's ear, and Harry thought he saw a glimmer of red in those smoldering eyes. "You won't have it again, right?"

"No…" Harry moaned quietly.

"I should think not," came the ominous reply. They continued wordlessly, the heat, the darkness, the wet sweat and the rumpled sheets serving as factors to this seemingly otherworldly experience.

Harry gasped, throwing his head back, mind blurry as if carnal sensations somehow dimmed it, but he was disturbed at how Cedric was acting. In the back of his mind, he knew who he was comparing Cedric to— the sinister, ebony haired boy from the Chamber of Secrets. The similarities were uncanny, but it was not the only thing troubling him. Talking about Malfoy while he was ramming into him, gave Harry's heart a deep wretch of angst and pain.

"Think of this, Harry," Cedric muttered in between pants, "Look at what I'm doing to you. You're mine now. Forget Malfoy- forget him, I'm here now…"

Harry hadn't realized it, but he had tears in his eyes, and when he closed them, they streamed down his face, overflowing like a river of angst, a river that he had been damming up inside ever since that day Malfoy betrayed him. _Cedric was here now, to right the wrong_, Harry thought.

Cedric grew harsher, and Harry reeled back, glancing up to the boy above him. The gleam in Cedric's eyes were firey red, and for a moment, Harry had thought that it was Tom Riddle doing this!

—But it was too late to truly ponder, they both reached their limit, Harry torn with a strange feeling of angst and thrilling lust. They collapsed, limbs intertwined, with Harry satied, yet confused, completely happy and yet torn with guilt and heartbreak.

Suddenly gentle now, Cedric took Harry's head to his shoulder. Harry noticed there was no red gleam in those warm gray eyes. He had imagined it all.

Cedric wiped tears from Harry's face with his thumb. "Don't worry, Harry." He said, softly, "let me right all this wrong."

Harry fell asleep soon after, thinking how everything could be all right again.

--

Voldemort glanced outside the window, watching the purple haze that was the morning shifting fog against the glass. His instincts told him that someone had arrived.

"Ah, you're back."

Cedric shut the door quietly and shrugged off his robe. He had a satiated grin on his features.

"I am, father."

Voldemort matched the grin, swirling the goblet of wine he had in his hand. "Is Harry asleep?"

"Yes, and he's just made the moves you anticipated. He doesn't want to go to the Order, not after Dumbledore's death. He's been relatively protected in Diagon Alley, without his knowledge of course, but once he gets his own place and evokes the Fidelis Charm, he'll be hidden even from the aurors."

Voldemort cocked his head, "And are you now his Secret Keeper?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Just like clockwork. Very soon, I believe you will be able to coax the prophecy from his lips. I tire of treading lightly around the boy— once we have the truth, I will finally know whether I can rid him without it killing me… or not."

Cedric flinched. He hadn't been expecting Harry's demise so soon. Voldemort noticed, and eyed him like a hawk, red eyes growing cold, somehow. "You must not think that Potter will be with you the rest of your life, Cedric, or I may have to deal with you as well."

"Of course, father." He bowed, ashamed and fearful.

Voldemort paused, considering the use of the Crutacius on the presumptious lad. But no, he was still too valuable to curse, as it was. He took a sip from his goblet, watching the boy nearly tremble in anticipation. He loved this effect he had on his servants— silence was always the best intimidator.

"We must get to work before your school term starts," Said Voldemort abruptly, "I have decided that we will be able to take him as soon as you have the prophecy, rather than at Christmas break, as what we had originally planned."

"As you wish." Cedric answered without anticipation. "Are you sending Bella, or Severus?"

Voldemort chuckled, suddenly. "Actually, I've a new experiment… To test a little loyalty among my newer servants, you see. I'm sending in the Malfoy boy."

At this, Cedric's face snapped up, a burning rage in his grey eyes. Voldemort saw it, but merely challenged it with a smile. Still, Cedric knew to keep courteous, and tried to shear off all the bitterness in his voice as he inquired, "Lucius…?"

"No, not the father," Indeed, Voldemort was having too much fun riling this Hufflepuff, "—his son, Draco. Both of you will retrieve Potter once the prophecy has been obtained. It seems somehow fitting, really. Do you have any objections?"

Cedric looked like he had every objection on the list. "…No but—"

Abruptly, Voldemort settled his goblet back onto the table with a loud clang. "Good…" He hissed, obviously ending the conversation. Cedric's mouth snapped closed.

But then, Voldemort changed his demeanour once more, like a snake shedding skin. "So, my pet… How did you find your little work tonight?"

Cedric shelved his retribution down, and instead, licked his lips, eyes glinting as they had done hours before. "Wonderful… He was truly… Exquisite."

Voldemort laughed coldly, yet he seemed to relish his own memory with triumph. "Ahh, yes. He was indeed."

--


End file.
